Jewel of the Pacific (13 page)

Until recently Eden had no idea of either her grandfather’s or Ambrose’s involvement.

Had Rafe known about all this? Perhaps, since he’d been the one to first tell her that her mother was alive, and a leper. Eden couldn’t forget how her own family had hushed it up out of embarrassment.

Eden, walking with Aunt Lana, was not prepared for what awaited them. As their small group emerged from the head of the trail to enter Kalawao, they were met by a group of severely deformed lepers.

Eden caught her breath and felt Lana’s steadying hand squeezing her arm. Dr. Jerome had also come beside her and spoke in a low voice: “Steady, Daughter. Remember why you have sacrificed to come to this place of the dead.”

Eden swallowed and struggled to not turn her head away in horror. She was not prepared to confront the appalling corruption of living human decay.

From behind her she heard Keno’s gasp of dismay.

Now, standing here looking upon the end result of leprosy unchecked, Eden recalled the patients at Kakaako who had been in the early stages of leprosy. At the time the mere rising of their flesh here or there did not appear so bad to the afflicted, or to Eden. She had almost felt the Board of Health was cruel and overreacting to keep them isolated and send them to this settlement.

Here at Kalawao it was different. Lepers were in advanced stages of the disease, losing fingers, toes, earlobes, eyes, teeth and gums, lips and throats, even tongues. Throats gurgled because speech was gone. But there was no need for delicacy among the lepers. They felt a part of the group. Here, they lived as the true “normal,” the rightful residents, while they might begin to see the healthy as the intruders—putting up with them only because of the supplies and assistance they brought.

“
Oe!
What did you bring us to eat?”

“Got mail?”

“Got new shoes from some fancy lady?”

“Got
okolehao?”
A toothless man, missing part of his nose and upper lip, hoarsely asked for Hawaiian liquor. With a grin, he added in a hissing tone, “Any new
wahines
, eh?” He chortled with foolish merriment. He and the men around him tried to hula, then wheezed with laughter.

“You are making a bad impression on our new guests,” Brother Dutton scolded, but added a smile as if they were naughty children.

“Yes, they come from the Board of Health,” Superintendent Hutchinson announced, still astride his horse.

“We get our own
kauka
again?” one asked hopefully.

“Doctor, yes.” Hutchinson nodded toward Jerome. “Two doctors. This is Dr. Jerome Derrington, from Kalihi hospital in Honolulu. And this good fellow is an old friend of mine from Honolulu—Dr. Clifford Bolton.”

“About time get
kauka,”
another grumbled.

“This is the
kauka’s
daughter, Miss Derrington,” Hutchinson went on. “Miss Derrington is her father’s
kahu
, nurse. This fine lady over here is Mrs. Bolton, a wonderful and wise nurse married to Dr. Bolton. And this good fellow is Pastor Ambrose Easton from the Christian Mission Church in Honolulu. And this young man is Keno, his nephew. These strong fellows are Keno’s cousins. They have come here to Kalawao to help you physically, and spiritually.”

“No more missionaries.” He held up a charred hand. “We have our own
kahuna,”
one hissed.

Some of the Hawaiians had seen the early sober-minded missionaries not as loving representatives from the supreme God, but as taskmasters out to ruin their frivolous way of living, drinking, and gambling.

Eden watched a few of the younger people showing off, refusing to admit that there was any serious difference between them and anyone else. Perhaps it was a bluff, or a challenge to others because of their desperate state. They scampered about like children on a village green. Sadly, they would never be children again, innocent and hopeful.

Lord, help me to love them with Your love. To do them only good. And if I cannot win them with my words, then may I do so with my prayers. At least help me to have compassion
.

The group opened before them, allowing the superintendent to lead the way onward into Kalawao.

Dr. Jerome, Ambrose, and Dr. Clifford Bolton followed Superintendent Hutchinson and Brother Dutton into the little village. The path widened to become the main street of the village. There were some huts constructed from inferior lumber, and some of the bungalows were whitewashed.

“Some of these old bungalows built years ago look as dilapidated and sick as the people,” Lana remarked to Eden and Keno, who walked beside them as self-appointed escort.

“I say that for the shame of the Hawaiian government,” Lana said.

“More should have been done,” Eden agreed. “We Christians should have spoken to the churches on the mainland and raised some money for building.” She sighed.

Eden noticed that each of the huts in the leper section of Kalawao was not only kept back and separate from the public street, but fences made of rocks separated the huts from each other. Most of these fences had green mildew or slime growing on them.

However, as Christians we have a far better city that awaits us
, Eden thought, straightening her shoulders.
There is no power, nor circumstance that can steal it away from us. Though the outward man is perishing, the inward man is being renewed day by day
.

They arrived at the hospital yard, which was as far as possible from the Kalawao village street. It was quieter and more remote, with a few small bungalows kept vacant and ready for visitors from the Honolulu Health Department, or guests like authors Robert Louis Stevenson, who had visited Molokai.

A special bungalow called the “Doctor’s House,” was for physicians sent to Molokai to live while working at the little Kalawao hospital. Dr. Jerome and Eden were taken to this bungalow.

Although Dr. Clifford Bolton had been in authority at the Board of Health, now that he’d been diagnosed a leper, the Doctor’s House was off-limits to him. He and Lana were taken to a different bungalow closer to Brother Dutton’s.

The Doctor’s House was large enough to hold Eden, her father, Ambrose, and Keno, with his three cousins able to sleep at the back porch.

The house was furnished comfortably with firewood available for the stove.

“Ah, what I’d give for a good cup of coffee.” Ambrose sighed. “What do you say, Jerome?”

“If I had a gold piece I’d give it for a cup.”

“Sold,” Keno said lightly, “one tin cup of coffee for a shiny gold piece.”

He cheered everyone by taking it upon himself to see that, not only coffee, but also their supper was prepared.

There were furnished beds, and even though the odor of mildew was prevalent and the thin mattresses were made of straw, Eden accepted them thankfully. She closed her tired eyes and saw nothing but ocean waves, black cliffs, and distorted faces.

But how quiet it was! After the constant roaring of the breakers, suddenly she realized the noise had ceased. She could still hear the ocean of course, but it was distant and subdued. She could hear her heart beating in her ears.

As she settled down into slumber she committed tomorrow and all it would bring into her heavenly Father’s safe, strong, and comforting hands.

The next morning Eden arose and dressed early. In the kitchen she found some coffee still warm on the stove, and some salty bacon and scrambled eggs. She would tease Candace in a letter by writing that they wanted Keno to stay on Kalawao with them.

With a cup of coffee, she went into Jerome’s little office. He was bent over a small desk and sat facing the window. The foliage outside the window was swaying. The winds appeared to be increasing.

“Hard at work, Father? Have you had coffee and something to eat?”

He turned in the chair and frowned at her. Then removed his spectacles and the frown turned into a smile.

“Ah, good morning, my dear. I won’t ask how you slept.” He put a hand against his back. “Lumpy mattress, indeed. But yes … I’ve eaten, but you can leave that coffee if you will. Thank you, dear. I’m going with Bolton to tour the hospital in a few minutes. You should come with us and get a good idea of what we have and don’t have in the way of supplies. We’ll need more bandages to be certain.”

“I—I said I’d go tomorrow with Lana. This morning I’m meeting with Ambrose about the printing press.”

“Oh, that’s right. I’d forgotten. Well good! A wonderful idea to print some Scripture portions in Hawaiian.”

“He’s taking me to meet David, the young boy he’s training to run the press.”

“Very well, then. I believe Keno stored boxes of printing paper and such on the back porch. They’re covered with some canvas from the ship.”

“It was different at Kalihi. The inevitable decay and death was not so glaring to me as it is here.”

“You’ll learn to cope. We must get the clinic constructed and continue with our research.” He looked out the window. “Where are Keno and the boys? I wish they’d put more energy into building it.”

“I’m certain they’re doing all they can, Father, and as quickly as they can.”

“From the looks of those clouds they’d better try harder.” He turned back to look at her. “When you’re busy helping me in my research you’ll adjust. It’s the moping and thinking that dashes the spirits. As soon as you meet with your dear mother I think your mood will change.”

He bent back over his desk, so Eden decided to sample Keno’s cooking. While she was munching a crisp bacon slice, Dr. Bolton showed up on the porch and called cheerily. Her father came out of his room with his satchel, put his black hat on, and hurried out the door to join Bolton.

Eden heard them talking about shared interests as their shoes crunched over the path toward the Board of Health’s rambling little hospital. Inside the low structure were the lepers who were too sick to care for themselves and had already passed their better days. Most were on the verge of dying. As she thought of them, she could remember the smell of rotting flesh from her nursing days. She put the bacon down unfinished and got up from the table.

She had barely stepped away from the table when Ambrose arrived.

“Breakfast?” she asked.

“I ate earlier with Keno and the boys. They’re on the shore, ready to haul more building supplies.” Ambrose seemed tired and thoughtful. He looked at her. “I’ll have a cup of coffee if it’s still warm. Has Jerome gone with Bolton to the hospital?”

“Yes, just ten minutes ago.” Eden smoothed her dark braid, coiled behind her head. She felt uneasy.

Ambrose took the coffee and stared into the cup as though it held dark secrets.

“Something’s wrong,” she murmured. “You weren’t able to contact the
kokua?”

“I met with her. You’ll see your mother this morning.”

The statement was unexpected. Eden sat down. “This morning?”

He nodded and sipped his coffee, frowning. “Keno always makes the coffee too strong.”

He focused on her. She knew something remained wrong; he was not relaxed and smiling as usual. She waited.

“First, I need to make matters as clear as I can, just as Dr. Bolton made it to me.” He smiled at her wearily.

She folded her arms. “I’m ready.”

“You need to know just how ill Rebecca is, and how short her remaining time is. She’s very sick … the same symptoms Damien had a couple of weeks before he died—short of breath, tremors, unable to walk. The
kokua
wonders if our visit will be too much for her
and
for you.”

Her heart sank.
Oh, no. Too late? After all of this tribulation?
Would life be so cruel as to hurl this disappointment upon her now?

“I told the
kokua
it’s extremely important for you to see your mother, even if Jerome must wait another day or two to see her—after she recuperates enough to see him as well. I believe you’re up to this. I suggest we see it through, lass.”

A breath of relief seeped through her lips. “I can do it. I can handle the moment.”

“With God’s help.”

“Yes, with His help.”

“Then we will see her before the noon hour.” He looked at the small clock on the table.

Eden, however, wondered if her father would be able to wait to see Rebecca. In his troubled mindset he had come here on the “wing of urgency” to waylay the disease from gaining its final stranglehold and carrying Rebecca away.

“If Rebecca is this close to death it will hit my father hard. He doesn’t seem to anticipate that she may expire before he can proceed with his experiments and research.”

Daily she’d watched the depletion of his physical strength without being able to do anything about it. She had also seen Ambrose and Dr. Bolton speaking quietly to each other of their concerns. Not that her father would pay heed to any of their suggestions. He refused to acknowledge his decline to anyone, especially to himself.

Even this morning his face showed lines of worry, even while an unrealistic excitement glimmered in his green eyes.

She grew uncomfortable. Did Dr. Bolton’s expert medical eye notice her father’s gradual decline? She thought that Ambrose had, and that this was the reason for his worry.